


The Broken Road

by LadyofAvalon



Category: Immortals - Tamora Pierce, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Provost's Dog - Tamora Pierce, Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tricksters - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-02
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyofAvalon/pseuds/LadyofAvalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes bad things happen to good people, sometimes tragedy strikes when least expected.  A collection of tragic oneshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Outcast

**Author's Note:**

> This collection was begun back in 2007 and was originally a standalone oneshot called 'Outcast' before I expended it. The first oneshot, Outcast, spawned a longer work called Destiny's Way. The others have nothing to do with any other story.

She watched them go, a few cast backwards glances her way, some shook their heads, one or two gave her a look of betrayal. But he looked at her like she'd broken his heart. He shook his head as he backed away, blending into the crowd.

They all thought she'd betrayed them, even when she hadn't. The mages in the enemy's army had captured her, and stolen the information from her mind. She'd done nothing wrong, and they hated her.

Her training master had said it, and the other knights had agreed. She was a disgrace. A failure. A traitor. Worthless. She was worse than that, they said. They'd had her tried in front of the king for her supposed treachery. She was ousted from her family, and she would never be able to redeem herself.

Now here she was, exiled from her country, standing on the Scanra-Tortall border, watching them walk away from her, knowing that she'd lost everything. He looked back at her once more time, "I'm sorry, Kel." Dom said, with a look on his face that showed her how his heart was breaking.

 _I'll never be anything more than a fallen warrior, after this. Maybe not even that._ "I know. I'm sorry, too. Goodbye, Dom." She watched them fade into the distance, then turned to go her own way. She had to make her own destiny now.


	2. Dead Man Walking

He struggled against the men's hold, trying to break free, just as she struggled against those holding her. Blood dripped down from the corner of her mouth and her hair fell into her eyes. To him she was still as beautiful as the day they had wed. But it was a very different day.

Tortall was beaten and broken, King Jonathan was dead, Prince Roald was missing, and Queen Thayet was in chains. There was very little that could go wrong now. So much already had. Numair Salmalin had been killed by an enemy mage, Keladry of Mindelan was nowhere to be found, and Veralidaine Sarrasri was trapped in a state where she couldn't use her magic.

Nearly everyone who defended Tortall had been killed, knight and mage alike, from the youngest page, to the oldest master. Even the mighty Lioness hadn't managed to defeat her opponent.

He watched as they continued to try to drag her away. Finally, one of them had had enough. The man pulled out a dagger, and thrust it into her heart. With a final glance at him, the fire in her eyes died.

After that he stopped struggling. It wasn't really worth it to him anymore. He'd lost the last thing in the country that mattered to him.

George Cooper was a dead man walking.


	3. Dragon's Gift

He dodged the arrows, lunging forward to drive the archers back. As he did, his thoughts drifted to her. He hadn't gotten to say goodbye.

He'd been told years before that he'd know when his time was, and he knew that it was now. He wished he could put it off, just for a day or two, but he knew that he couldn't. Now was his time, and the only thing he could do was leave the world doing something good.

He dodged more arrows, working his way to the prince. As he did the archers who had been shooting at him took that opportunity to aim at the king. At the last second he threw himself in front of the arrows.

His body felt like it was on fire. He moved toward the archers, ignoring his screaming muscles. One by one, he took them down. He panted from the effort, and glanced one more time at the King of Tortall, the one who would bring a new age to their world.

The cold blackness enclosed him as he met the sapphire gaze of Jonathan of Conté. As everything faded, Liam Ironarm knew one thing.

Like the Shang Dragons before him, he'd given his life for someone who could change the world. He'd given Tortall the Dragon's Gift.

His only regret was that he'd never had a chance to say goodbye to Alanna.


	4. Standing Tall

He was gone. She couldn't believe it. He was just…gone. She stood on the battlefield, where she had seen him go down. There was so much blood, so many bodies. She had seen many battles before, but this was the worst of all, and not just because of her loss.

Tortall had won the day, but lost so much. They'd lost so many people, soldier and civilian, noble and commoner. Knights, pages squires, nearly everyone in the palace who could fight had been killed.

What hurt her the most was his loss. She'd known that it was coming, but not that it would be so soon. Knights constantly put themselves in danger, and he'd done it one time too many. Now she was alone, but she had to stand tall through this, and not let it destroy her.

Even when things got tough, Buriram of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak wasn't going to lie down and die.

Not even when she'd lost Raoul. She would stand tall until her own end.


	5. Shattered Song

She stood there, staring at the gravestone, unable to feel anything but her own tears. Nothing but her own grief penetrated her mind.

It just wasn't fair. It wasn't even a rebellion among his own people that had killed him. He'd been killed by outsiders. His death was pointless. There was absolutely no reason he should have been killed. The lower city had been more at peace than it had during the last two hundred years, while he was the Rogue. He'd been the Rogue for a little under two years, a short time for a Rogue in their day. Now, he was gone. Now there was no piper for the song.

Beka Cooper stood there, her eyes fixed on the engraving – Rosto the Piper, A Rogue to be Remembered. The song had ended, the notes were scattered, the music had ceased. Rosto was gone, dead. He wasn't about to come back and surprise her; his song was ended, his life was done.

 _The worst part,_ she thought, _is that I never told him that I loved him…_


	6. Losing Kitten

He was losing her. Day by day, she was drifting farther and farther away. He didn't really know how he felt. He was sad, and yet relieved. There was a part of him that was afraid of her. He hated that. It wasn't right. He felt like he was leading her on.

'I'm losing you, Kitten, I don't know how or why, but it seems so effortless…I'm sorry. It's probably better this way. It might save you some heartbreak in the end, even if I can't save myself from it,' he thought.

'Maybe it's a good thing that you're drifting away, Kitten. Maybe you'd be able to live with what's going to happen.'

He was just going to have to deal with losing his Kitten. She was finding her own way, and growing into a lioness.

No matter how much it hurt, Liam was just going to have to deal with it, and let his Kitten go…


	7. A Dog's Loyalty

' _It's not fair,'_ he thought, _'she doesn't need to die. This is stupid. She doesn't need to be a Dog. She doesn't need to do what she's doing. She doesn't need to be a statistic.'_

He held her pale hand while she lay there. It hurt him to see her like that, to think that she might not wake up. He sighed, his eyes flicking across her face, searching for a glimmer of hope.

There wasn't one that he could find. Did that mean that there was no hope for her at all? He pushed those thoughts away, there had to be hope. There just had to be. He shifted in the chair, uncomfortable after long hours of sitting there, and waited more.

A healer passed the door, briefly stopping to write something. He glanced at the healer, who shook her head when she saw him looking. When the healer was gone, he put his head in his hands.

He was losing her, because she'd shown a Dog's loyalty. Beka Cooper was loyal to the Lord Provost, but it was Rosto who was paying the price for her loyalty.


	8. Falling

They were falling.

Every single one of them was falling, struck by arrows. She watched them from a low window of the palace, her heart screaming as she did.

Even without thinking, she fled the window; rushing through the halls to where she could escape from the place she had worked so hard to help gain. She ran through the cobblestones streets to where she had seen them.

Glossy black feathers lay scattered on the street, some whole, others in tatters. Crow bodies littered the ground – some moved, arrow shafts in their wings, while others didn't, their wounds beyond any healer's ability.

Her heart caught when she saw a wavy white scar on an unmoving body. She knelt by the feathery cadaver; her fingers caressed the soft feathers as she picked him up.

"Nawat…" Aly's voice was but a whisper. Tears filled her eyes. Now, she, too, felt like she was falling.

Nawat was gone.


	9. Ashes

Ash. That was all that was left, now. Everything else was gone, even her. Fire had destroyed everything that they'd worked so hard for, everything that they had held dear.

People gathered behind him while he gazed at the smoking ruins. He knew exactly why he'd lost her. She'd gone back to help the others; she'd gone back to help the people who trusted her. She'd done her duty by them, but it had cost her life. He never should have let her go back in.

It repeated over and over again in his mind. He never should have let her go. Maybe then he wouldn't have been torn up inside. But, if he'd stopped her, he would have felt that guilt for the rest of his life.

Now he had to deal with the pain. Now Dom had to deal with the ashes of his heart, and of New Hope.


	10. Darkening Whispers

They were dying. He could hear them as they did. Thousands of miles separated them from him, but he could still feel their pain. They cried out through their bond with him without even thinking about it. Something was slaughtering them, and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt every ounce of agony they did.

Being the Voice of the Tribes was a hard life. That was how it had been for all of the past Voices. And yet, the burden was heaviest upon his shoulders. He had to keep peace – that was the price he paid.

Being the King and the Voice was a hard task, full of pain, joy, suffering, and even sacrifice. It was a burden that Jonathan of Conté would gladly bear.


End file.
